


Coming Home

by bowsandmeows



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, Hatfilms, The Yogscast
Genre: Cooking, Domesticity, Multi, Swearing, Urban Magic Yogs, basically an ode to pasta, umy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 06:59:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6971875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowsandmeows/pseuds/bowsandmeows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross' favorite part of the day is when his court comes back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of this scene yesterday, and I just had to write it. This is my first hatfic/ first fic in general.

Trott had often encouraged Ross to not stay home all day staring out the window, but on a day like this: sun shining, a gentle breeze in the air, people and fae of all sorts out milling the streets, he had to watch. Ross had been over the moon when they moved into their newest flat. The living room was spacious, and there was a large window that Ross could watch the city from. After the rest of his court had stumbled out the door, he put on some soft music, grabbed a pillow, and laid down in front of his window to watch the world go by.  
One-hundred and forty-two people, six dogs, and a handful of stray cats later, Ross sensed more than heard Sips coming home. Shortly after, Sips came bumbling through their front door, already complaining that he was hungry. With one last look at the city, Ross heaved himself off the floor and went to engulf Sips in a hug.  
“Yeah, yeah, I’m happy to see you too, but I want some pasta.” Sips said, his words muffled against Ross’ chest.  
Ross nodded eagerly and pulled Sips with him into the kitchen. Sips began rambling on about the customers he’d seen that day, apparently one had been angry enough to call for the manager of the store, which was a loose term for what Sips actually did.   
As Ross waited for the water to boil, he heard the telltale signs of Smith coming home: a slamming car door, heavy steps up to their flat, and the creak of their door when it was opened too quickly.  
“I’m home, guys!” Smith shouted.  
“No shit, Smiffy, I can hear you from a mile off,” Sips snapped, but accepted the light kiss Smith placed on his mouth. Smith then sidled up to Ross’ side and looked over his shoulder as Ross put the pasta in the water and set a timer.  
“Are we having pasta again?” Smith asked. Ross nodded with a quick glance at Sips.  
“It’s what the king wanted,” Ross said.  
“Damn right it is.” Sips smirked at Smith, rolling his eyes as Smith began to recount the number of times they’d had pasta that week.  
As they argued, Ross pulled three different kinds of pasta sauce from the cabinet. Trott had brought home several different kinds home for Ross to try, but then the four of them couldn’t decide on a favorite. Sips preferred a traditional tomato sauce, Smith liked the kind with bits of meat buried in it, and Trott favored one filled with different spices. Ross liked all of them, and sometimes would spoon some of all three onto his pasta, much to the rest of his court’s dismay. At least they agreed on the cheese.  
Ross drained the pasta and went about spooning it onto different plates. There was a moment of silence when he heard the front door open again, before Smith tried pulled Trott into their argument. Trott was silent as he carefully hung up his jacket and took off his shoes. Smith started to follow Trott into the kitchen, but Sips grabbed his sleeve and pushed him towards the couch.  
“That looks good, sunshine,” the selkie murmered to Ross, putting a hand on his back. Ross mumbled a thank-you and wrapped his tail around Trott’s legs. Something about their flat felt different when Trott came home, like the walls themselves had been holding a breath that was released as he walked in the door. He was always the last one to come in, almost always working overtime both at the shop and with other members of the court. Maybe it was just Ross himself who breathed easier when Trott came home. He would never admit it to the others, but sometimes his dreams were filled with the emptiness of his church and the incredible silence that comes when there is no one around. The worst dreams were the ones in which he was left at this flat, alone and waiting for his court to come back even though he knew they wouldn’t. Those dreams had him waking up gasping and clutching the sleeping bodies of his court all the tighter.  
But those dreams weren’t real, Ross told himself. He could feel Trott’s hand on his back and hear the quiet bickering of Sips and Smith. His court was home, and so was he.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Like I said, this is my first-ever fic, so please leave me some comments and suggestions!


End file.
